


A Sherlock Tale

by VT44



Series: A Quartet in Three Parts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AFL, AU - Australian Rules Football, Alternative First Meeting, Angst, Australia, Dating, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, Love at First Sight, M/M, Melbourne, australian rules football, footy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VT44/pseuds/VT44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Author Note - I disliked the way I had gone about writing this story, so it has been given an overhaul and it is being re-written - 27/1/2016*</p><p>John hates his life in England and can't seem to get out of the rut he has fallen into since being invalidated home from Afghanistan. </p><p>A late night TV ad changes all that and he finds himself on his way to the other side of the world - Australia, where he meets a mysterious curly hair man who instantly captivates his attention.  </p><p>Tags to be added</p><p>Author's Note: 17/7/16 - currently on indefinite hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance Encounter

John Watson had been to some pretty amazing places in his life. When he was young, there was that family holiday to the countryside of France, with the massive house by the lakeside, and various hide and seek spots in the hills and caves behind the house. Only two years ago he had been sent home injured from his service in Afghanistan, where the wide barren land and endless, endless sand was simultaneously beautiful and draining. Of course London, his home, was an exciting, bustling magical place most of the time. But lately, it had been all too much for him. The loneliness of this flat, the numbness of his life, and the endless medical appointments for both his shoulder injury and his PTSD. His therapist had suggested going on a holiday, and he'd jumped at the chance.

 _I deserve a holiday after everything I have been through_. He let his mind wander, thinking about the possibility of taking a holiday to northern Scotland and perhaps getting a nice little cottage on the moor for a couple of weeks, maybe there he could hone his writing skills too. John decided he would take a few weeks to think about it, and plan it properly.   


Going about his daily life had started to become boring and long for former Captain Watson. Every time he felt like he was moving forward, something would happen in his life and he would take two steps back. Every day at work was dull, he hated being a GP but when he had first come home, he hadn’t been able to face working anywhere more exciting or… no he had decided that it was just the way it was going to have to be. He needed something to compliment his army pension; it certainly wasn’t enough to keep him in London.

  
John Watson had never been one for snap decisions, except those made during his service. Most of his life was carefully planned, this was probably one of the reasons he had been drawn to become a doctor, and then subsequently to join the army and serve his country.   


One night in late February, John was resting on his bed/ couch in his bedsit apartment, the TV on in the background. He had been thinking about starting to plan his small holiday to Scotland since over a month had passed since that appointment with his therapist. He began daydreaming about the white moors he would encounter on his journey to northern Scotland when his attention was brought back to the TV, something caught his eye. Bright brilliant sunshine, the likes of which are rarely seen in England. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.   
  
**'Sun, surf, sand! Forest, ocean, desert! Come to Australia and you can have it all! Visit the amazing surf coast, beautiful, lush green forests and dry dusty red dessert. Come to Australia and you can see it all. Flights from Heathrow ON SALE NOW! Do not delay! BOOK NOW! These deals won't last long! And hopefully it won't be long till your here! G'day mate!'**  
  
_That's it_ John thought _it's perfect, I don't need white cold snow, I need hot sun and sand._  
  
John couldn't sleep that night, and was off to the local travel agent first thing the next day with his bag packed and passport in hand.   
'Get me on the first flight to Australia please.'   
'Oh yes of course sir. Where in particular did you want to go in Australia?'   
'Well what's the next flight I could easily get'   
'Probably Singapore Airlines flight 098 to Melbourne which leaves at 1600 this afternoon.'

‘That one, I want to be on that one!’ John enthused.

 

Some 20 minutes later the travel agent was handing John a travel wallet full of paper.

‘So you’re on the 098 Singapore Airlines to Melbourne, Australia, with a stopover of 3 hours in Singapore. I’ve booked you accommodation at the Crown Metropol hotel for 4 weeks, and then after that you’re going to see how you like it. Here’s the card for my counterpart in Melbourne, if you need anything just contact her and she will sort you out.’ John took the card and put it in his wallet.

‘thank you for organising all this in such a short space of time’ John picked up his bags and headed for the door and straight to the waiting black cab that had been pre-booked to take him to the airport.

He placed his luggage in the boot and hopped in the back seat. Just as he was about to slam the door, a long slender hand stopped it from closing.

A tall hooded figure poked their head through the door and in a gruff voice enquired

‘This taxi going to the airport… I shall share it with you,’ and with that he climbed into the taxi next to John. John was so taken aback, staring at the man with his mouth agape, that he was momentarily stunned into silence. The cabbie stared at the pair of them in the rear view mirror before the stranger spoke up

‘You can drive now’ the cabbie glanced at John directly, who still couldn’t find any words, and merely shrugged his shoulders.

 

John gave the man a sideways glance, he was dressed in a navy blue tracksuit with a hint of red in it, but John couldn’t tell much else. He didn’t appear to have any luggage though which was a bit odd. John turned to stare out his own window.

 _Who the hell is this man! What the hell is going on…. And why didn’t I do anything to make him get out._ These thought whizzed around John’s head as they drove to the airport.

 _He seems to have an unnerving sense of authority and calm about him, I could have easily tossed him out of the car but I didn’t…_ The mysterious stranger sat staring out the window, not making a sound and never moving. John stared at him again for a moment, before turning his back on the stranger and staring out the window.

 _Oh well, he doesn’t seem to be any kind of serial killer, and I won’t have to pay for the full taxi fare now_. John sighed heavily and thought about the long flight ahead of him.

_Should I have told Harry I was going on a holiday… I’ll send a postcard._

 

Finally they arrived at Heathrow, and just before the cab pulled up to the curb John pulled out his wallet, expecting the stranger to do the same. As soon as the cab stopped, the stranger was off without a word.

‘Hey!’ John cried after him, but it was no use, the stranger was already lost in the crowd milling in the drop off area. John sighed, the cabbie shrugged his shoulders and John handed over the cash.

‘Keep the change,’ John huffed, jumping out of the cab, collecting his bags and making his way into the Departure hall, silently cursing the Stranger for starting his holiday off on a bad foot.

‘Who does he think he is anyway? The King of England


	2. Coincidence - I think not

Coming up to his fourth month of being on holiday in Australia, and John couldn’t have been happier. He felt better than he ever remembered. He was surprised to find that he was enjoying Australia immensely, but he came to the decision he needed to explore what else the Country had to offer besides beaches, and everything associated with said beaches. Whilst John is not one to brag, he is quite proud of the fact he has mastered the art of surfing, and in less than 2 weeks to boot! The instructor’s words brought a smile to his face

_How long have you been surfing for?_

_Oh, um…. This is my first lesson._ Cue flabbergasted expression from the instruction and a cry of

 _Well stone the flamin’ crows, you have 100% natural talent then mate. You don’t need much more practice to go pro I’d say._ And with that John had now been surfing every day for over a month.

 

Living down on the surf coast had been a blessing in disguise for John, maybe it was the laid back attitude of the locals and the fact it seemed to be so warm and sunny almost every single day, or maybe it was due to the fact that John felt no pressure to do anything day in day out. He was able to do as he pleased when he pleased. He had gotten to know a couple of the locals, who all loved the pommie bastard who could surf better than them and had been topping up his army pension by working on the side in the local pub. After the first month and a half he had realised his savings and pension weren’t going to cover all his costs and had been complaining to the bar manager that he would have to go home sooner than expected, and right on the spot the bar manager had offered him a job and free board above the pub. John jumped at the chance to immerse himself more completely in the local community.

 

However, the time had come to move on and John decided he wanted to move back to the city. He wanted to start enjoying all the little things about Melbourne that were so unique to the city. The laneways, the coffee shops, the tourist attractions and of course all the sport that was on offer year round. Actually he’d been thinking about going to see that travel agent again and ask about getting a more permanent form of visa. His current holiday one was going to expire in two months, but John was pretty sure there were more things to see and do before he left Australia. He had even been considering the idea of staying here and getting a job. He had occasionally been looking at jobs for trauma and A&E surgeons and there seemed to be a few going at local children’s hospital. He could put his skills to good use. Certainly it had to be safer than surfing with the Great White’s every day.

 

He had attended a local shoulder specialist to get the all clear for surfing when he had first moved down the coast, and was told it was all clear, and he could even go back to working in trauma if he wanted to. John was so pleased to hear that Australia was working a healing magic on him, he had shouted the whole pub a round of drinks after he had received the good news and had woken the next morning with a splitting headache.

 

With that, two weeks later John was living in a small two-bedroom apartment in Parkville, very close to the Royal Children’s Hospital Melbourne, where he had taken up a position as Head of Trauma for the Emergency Department. He wouldn’t be officially starting his new job for another 2 weeks’ time, but would be going into the hospital for a few days of orientation.

Learning his way around the hospital was proving slightly difficult for him and every now and then he would have to stop someone to ask them for directions to where he needed to be. He could remember exactly how to get to the Meerkat enclosure or the Starlight Express room but trying to get to boardroom 5 was almost beyond him.

 

John was walking along a more or less deserted corridor looking for the co-ordinators office when he ran smack bang into someone. His hand shot out to steady himself and the other person by grabbing onto their arm.

‘I’m so sorry.’ John said, letting go of the arm and looking up at the person with a smile. The person turned out to be a tall, dark, curly haired man in a black suit with an open necked white shirt on. John squinted at the man, he felt like he may have seen him somewhere before. John frowned while thinking for a moment and then suddenly it came to him.

‘Oh hey, I know you’ The man raised his eyebrows at him, but still did not speak.

‘You’re that guy that jumped in my cab at the start of the year and got a free lift to the airport. Thanks for waiting around and paying for your half mate’ John said sarcastically. The man stared at him, before a small flicker of recognition registered on his face.

‘I saw an opportunity and I took it.’ The man said, his voice a low deep rumble that seemed to seep right to John’s core. John felt his face flush slightly as the man spoke.

‘Well I did not appreciate it,’ John said, trying not to concentrate too keenly on the man’s face and stare at him. He was actually quite good looking, now that John could see his face properly. Sharp angled cheekbones, beautiful eyes… what? John shook himself slightly and cleared his throat loudly.

‘I suppose that’s understandable, I could make it up to you,’ The man said causing John’s mouth to drop open in surprise. From first impression this man did not seem like the type to want to spend time with other people willingly in any sort of social capacity.

‘Erm… how about tonight, meet me at 7pm.’ The man said before beginning to stride down the hall.

‘Hey wait, is that it?’ John called after him. The man spun on his heel and stalked back towards John.

‘We don’t even know anything about each other. I don’t even know your name and you are inviting me to… what… dinner? I don’t even know where we are meeting,’ John crossed his arms.

‘You can assume it is dinner if you like. And I know everything I need to. I can tell that you have decided to immigrate to Australia, in particular Melbourne on a split second decision; that you have been living down the coast but have recently moved back to the city to continue to pursue your career aspirations; you used to be in the Army back in the UK, probably fighting Afghanistan or Iraq but you were invalidated home and thought you would never recover. Since coming to Australia your PTSD has been lessening, your injury has healed enough that you have been given the all clear to begin working again and you are looking to make some new friends before starting your new job here. That’s enough to be going on with don’t you think.’ He began to walk away again, leaving John staring after him.

‘Oh and the name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address to meet is 525 Collins Street.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to have this chapter being a little longer but I am stuck for time and I thought this was a good place to leave the chapter - might come back and edit/ add more later on. 
> 
> Enjoy! Reviews and Kudos always welcome
> 
> *revised on 20/3/16


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this chapter on the train from Torquay to Liverpool. have a bit of spare time as I am on holiday for a week, so hoping to update all my stories this week.
> 
> Have finally written out my chapter for this story, which includes a prologue and started writing out the sequel chapters too! so should be good!
> 
> Once again not britpicked or beta'd, but if anyone is interested let me know!
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments always appreciated and loved

 

John hesitantly walked into 525 Collins Street. He never had much reason to be in the city, so hadn’t come across the building before. After a little bit of navigating on the trams, and some directions from google maps on his phone, he had managed to find Collins Street and subsequently number 525. John found himself stood outside the Rialto building and contemplated whether or not to wait inside when he spotted Sherlock Holmes walking… no striding up the street towards him. He had changed from earlier, his suit the same black, but he had changed his shirt underneath from white to a deep purple. John himself had changed and was now dressed in what he thought were smart trousers, navy blue in colour and a short sleeved white shirt with tiny navy sail boats on it. It was his favourite shirt he had acquired whilst down the coast for those couple of months. John considered it to be still quite warm in Melbourne even though by June it was well and truly winter. He had brought a jumper just in case it did get a bit cooler later in the evening.

 

‘Good evening’ the low rumble of Sherlock’s voice broke John from his thoughts on Sherlock’s clothing and the Melbourne weather. He blinked a bit stupidly up at Sherlock before shaking himself slightly and returning the greeting.

‘Hello’ Sherlock nodded and gestured for him to enter the foyer of the building. John entered wondering about Sherlock’s lack of small talk, before being overwhelmed by the amazing architecture inside the building. He followed Sherlock through what seemed a small maze of a foyer until he approached a desk set in between two lift areas. John didn’t quite hear what was being said but once the receptionist had spoken through her head set, they were ushered to stand in front of one of the lifts. John felt almost nervous waiting in silence with Sherlock.

 

Luckily he had decided to do a little bit of research before coming out on his ‘date’ tonight. He had looked up 525 Collins Street and discovered that it was the sight of the Rialto Towers. He had subsequently also discovered that there was an astonishingly posh bar located on the 55 floor of the building, and judging from his encounter with Sherlock today he suspected that may be the place he was going to be taking him.

 

As they entered the lift and it began the ascent to floor 55 John knew he had been right. He hoped he had dressed appropriately as the bar’s website proclaimed that it was ‘the epitome of class and charisma and he had briefly seen mention of appropriate dress before he had realised the time and rushed out of his apartment for fear of being late.

‘You’ve got nothing to worry about John; you are dressed more than appropriately. The website only states there are too be no shorts, thongs or ripped denim worn’ John stared up at him. How the hell did Sherlock know what he had been thinking about, and hang on a minute how did he even know his name. He hadn’t actually remembered telling him. John opened his mouth to question, but before he got the chance the lift arrived at their destination and a gentleman in a waistcoat was ushering them out of the lift and into the bar. John momentarily forgot about his questions for Sherlock, he even forgot that he was actually supposed to be following Sherlock and the waiter to their table as he stared around the Lui Bar. He’d never seen an interior like it, the walls so dark, the couches and arm chairs seated around amazingly low coffee tables or slightly higher bar type tables. But the interior was nothing compared to the amazing views of Melbourne through the almost 180 degrees panoramic views John could see. He was startled out of his amazement by a gentle hand from the waiter on his shoulder, pointing in the direction of the table he had just shown Sherlock too. John thanked him politely and hurried over.

‘Sorry, it’s just… wow this place certainly is fancy.’ Sherlock gave a small smile.

‘Technically you cannot make a booking, but I asked specifically for this table.’ John could see why as he sat down. The view was out over the Melbourne Olympic Park, all those tennis courts, the rugby fields, the football (AFL) grounds and of course the MCG! Plus the lights and the hustle and bustle of such a cosmopolitan city was visible even 55 floors up.

 

‘I shall get you a candle for your table sirs,’ the waiter said as they settled into their big leather backed arm chairs, before handing over the menus and turning around.

‘no we aren’t on a…’ John began, but then stopped and blushed deeply upon seeing the bemused look Sherlock was giving him.

After a few moments of not entirely uncomfortable silence, but not quite pleasant, slightly awkward silence, Sherlock cleared his throat.

‘You’ve got questions.’ He posed it as more of a statement. John looked up from the menu he had been trying unsuccessfully to read. He placed the menu down and shrugged slightly.

‘How did you know about… Everything you said back at the hospital, how did you know?’ Sherlock gave a small exacerbated sigh.

‘It’s called deduction John. I am the master of deduction.’ John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock continued on.

‘I could read you decision to immigrate to Australia obviously from your accent, your costal living from the tanned nature that your skin has acquired. You’ve obviously been here for a while otherwise you would still be that pasty white that most English people seem to have perfected. You’re tan is more than just a short holiday tan though, so hence down the coast for a bit. I can read your military career in your stance, the way you hold yourself and of course your haircut. Which wars has England been involved in during the last few years where troops have been deployed? Afghanistan or Iraq. I can read your PTSD in the lines around your eyes, the way you unconsciously clench your fist every now and then when something startles you. Whatever injury it was has obviously healed as you shall be taking up full time employment very soon at the Royal Children’s Hospital as Head of the Emergency Department. And your name is Doctor John Watson… I did read that last bit on your name tag this morning when you bumped into me’ Sherlock leaned away from John, who saw a flicker of regret and pass over his face.

‘Wow… that was amazing… brilliant even.’ John breathed staring across the small table at Sherlock.

‘That’s not what people normally say’

‘What do people normally say?’

‘Piss off’ John burst out laughing and after a moment Sherlock joined in. John decided he wanted to hear this man laugh more, and it was in that moment that, even if he didn’t realise it, John Watson fell quite hard for Sherlock Holmes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, another chapter.  
> And now I am getting into describing more of my beautiful city from home! 
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy. I have mapped out the rest of this story, and then two more stories for this little verse I have created. 
> 
> Next chapter - we find out exactly what Sherlock is/ has been doing in Australia, and it's full steam head for date number two!
> 
> Comments and Kudos appreciated and loved! xox

The cocktail Sherlock ordered for John was much stronger than he would have liked, called Koala Stinger and was apparently ‘on of the few cocktails that was illegally served through US prohibition through the roaring twenties.’ John almost spat in out upon first sip, but they had time to sit and chat so John didn’t have to drink it too fast. Plus, he was pretty sure he had heard Sherlock order something called Nutella Donuts. He stared out the window at the amazing views below and had another small sip from his Koala Stinger. He turned back to glance at Sherlock, but found the man blatantly staring at him. When John caught him, he looked away quickly, out the window and John could see a small blush creep up from behind his ears.

‘So… erm… Sherlock’ John took a large sip of his Koala Stinger, fighting down the urge to splutter from the strong burning liquid. ‘what were you doing in England when we shared that taxi to the airport?’

‘I was visiting home to see my mother, father and brother for Christmas. They always insist that I fly back to spend Christmas with them’ Sherlock glared out the window before returning his gaze back to John.

‘I despise having to make the trip back every year, but Mummy can be very persuasive when she wants to be, and then I can’t possibly say no.’ John smiled knowingly. His own parents had passed away a few years ago while he had been on duty. He had missed their funerals, but hadn’t wanted to attend anyway. To say his childhood had been unpleasant was almost an understatement. John shook his head slightly, now was not the time to be thinking about his parents.

‘So what is it that dragged you away from England then?’ John saw a flash of panic cross Sherlock’s face before he opened his mouth.

‘John… It’s complicated but I’

‘Sirs, so sorry about the wait for your food’ A plate of what looked like dough balls was placed between them before Sherlock had a chance to answer. John thought he saw relief flicked across Sherlock’s face but before he had a chance to analyse it too deeply Sherlock was sliding the plate closer to him.

‘Taste these John, they shall be like nothing you have eaten before,’ John could see a sparkle in Sherlock’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before as John carefully picked up one of the round dough balls and bit into the middle of it. Sherlock grinned at him as John tasted the rich flavour of Nutella filling his mouth, surrounded by the perfectly soft, moist doughnut.

‘oh my goodness Sherlock – these are just… they are amazing, melt in your mouth. I’ve never eaten anything this… scrumptious before. They are certainly round golden balls of delight!’ Sherlock gave a low chuckle and smirked at John as he picked up a whole one, ready to pop it into his mouth.

‘I completely concur John’ and with that Sherlock popped a whole doughnut in his mouth.

 

**********************************************************************************

 

‘Fancy a stroll John?’ Sherlock enquired, after paying for their drinks and food. John smiled and nodded, letting himself be led out of the bar. As they were walking past the bar and toward the lift John noticed the illuminated quote written across the back wall.

 

_A true individual is precisely one who is different from the rest of the world, and there is no formula, no set of rules, no code of conduct that can possibly capture in informative terms what it is to be like that_

 

John put the quote to the back of his mind to think about later and he followed Sherlock back into the lift. His heart thudded, too loudly for his liking, in his chest as Sherlock continued to keep hold of his hand and slowly rub his thumb over the knuckles on John’s hand. He let Sherlock lead the way back up Collins Street to Swanston Street, and then they strolled along Swanston Street towards Flinders Street Station.

‘Did you know John that Flinders Street station was built in 1854 and was the first station built in any Australian city, and also that this station not only includes the best facilities for railway workers but also contained a concert hall, library and a ballroom. There are always rumours about the Ballroom being refurbished, and maybe one day they will actually do it.’ John let Sherlock’s voice wash over him.

 

Their stroll continued and John found himself before long, sitting on a bench at Birrarung Marr, looking out over the Yarra River. In the distance John could see the light towers of what he had come to learn was the ‘hallowed turf’ of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, or the G’ as locals call it. John continued to stare at the G’ as he felt Sherlock move slightly closer to him, their legs slightly touching as they sat side by side. Sherlock still had a hold of his hand and was gently continuing to run his thumb along the ridges of his hand, almost like he was trying to feel and memorise every nook and cranny of his hand.

 

‘Have you been to a game of AFL Sherlock? Or should I say ‘the footy’?’ Sherlock merely shrugged and gripped John’s hand just that little bit tighter. John chuckled.

‘No I can’t imagine it’s something that peaks your interest really. One of my colleagues at work, Sean, has invited me to go along with him and a few of the other doctors this weekend. To see a game between the Melbourne Demons and Collingwood Pies, apparently they are old rivals from way back and in their words ‘it should be a good game’. Sherlock hand if possible tightened even more around his at the mention of the footy. John glanced at Sherlock and could see him staring out at the Yarra River, mouth in a thin line, looking slightly pensive. John squeezed his hand back and Sherlock turned to look at him.

‘Is everything ok? You are having an alright time yeah’ He noticed as Sherlock swallowed and proceeded to open and close his mouth a number of times before replying.

‘John I… I don’t know how to say this. I’m not good with words of emotion or sentiment in general.’ Sherlock stopped as if gathering himself. John angled his body more towards Sherlock and gently took hold of his other hand, running both thumbs over Sherlock’s knuckles to try and reassure the man. His heart once again began beating wildly in his chest, his mouth had gone sightly dry and he gave his lips a quick once over.

‘John, I think I quite like you, and I think I would quite like to continue to see you again.’ Sherlock’s cheeks blossomed red and he looked away from John. John gulped slightly and cleared his throat. He had been feeling exactly the same way since Sherlock had explained his deductions to him. He squeezed Sherlock’s hands to get the man to look back at him.

‘I think I would quite like to continue seeing you too Sherlock.’ John could see relief cloud over Sherlock’s features and so he continued, not sure why he felt so brave, maybe it was the cocktail he’d consumed.

‘If it’s ok with you I would like to kiss you now’ Sherlock gave a small nod and John licked his lips once more, eyes flicking from Sherlock’s intense gaze to his lips and back again. He slowly leaned forward, one of his hands releasing its grip on Sherlock’s and sliding along his leg towards his waist. John heard Sherlock’s breath hitch and his face was moving closer. Their lips met and their kiss was warm and soft and hesitant and a little sloppy, but it was also absolutely perfect. John pressed forward a little harder causing Sherlock’s unoccupied hand to gently squeeze his leg and a small moan to come from Sherlock’s throat. John pulled back slightly, Sherlock following, not wanting to break the kiss just yet. John placed his hand in the middle of Sherlock’s chest and pushed back slightly causing their kiss to be broken. Sherlock stared at him wide eyed, breathing heavy. John leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s sucking in air as quickly as he could. He smiled at Sherlock and gave him another quick closed mouth peck.

‘That was … Sherlock I…’ John breathed, his hand returned to Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock nodded and squeezed John’s thigh again.

‘Kiss me again John!'


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this story! It is my little pet project I have to say.   
> I normally end up writing it while I listen to the footy actually. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, pretty excited to write the next chapter! 
> 
> It's a little longer than normal too, I am hoping that this will be the trend with all my stories now! 
> 
> Comments, Kudos and all round love appreciated and right back at ya!

John stood outside the MCG waiting for Sean to come out of the members’ reserve and take him in. John looked up at the magnificent structure that was the MCG. Just from the outside he could see why people would want to come here to watch sport.

He was enjoying the atmosphere outside the ground, all the families who were walking passed, young kids with their favourite player’s number on their back, their faces painted red and blue or black and white, with badges adorning their gurney’s. John supposed it was a lot like football – oh wait over here they called it soccer. Half the time John couldn’t believe how Australian could have their completely own language and he have no idea what they were talking about. I mean seriously who calls trousers ‘pants’, how ridiculous, but John was slowly learning all the little idiosyncrasies that come along with living the Australian lifestyle. Just quietly, he was very much enjoying himself. It had only been a few days since his date with Sherlock, and he couldn’t wait to see the man again. Their last date had finished at John’s tram stop, with many goodbye and goodnight kisses before he had absolutely had to get on the tram so as to not miss the last one for the night. It was worth the sleep-deprivation headache the next morning though. John smiled as he remembered Sherlock awkwardly trying to ask for a second date. They had decided on going to the movies next week sometime. He wrote his number of Sherlock’s hand when the urge overtook him, and told him to ‘text me’ when he had to leave. The whole tram ride back to Parkville John had been thoroughly embarrassed by his school boy crush actions, but he couldn’t deny the way the man made him feel.

 

‘Johnny Boy!’ Sean’s cry shook his out of his thoughts, just as he received a hearty backslap from Sean.

‘Sorry mate I got caught up chatting with Robbo about the ins and outs of the game. Right let’s get you inside then.’ Sean handed him a ticket and once his bag had been checked as they passed through security he was in.

‘Right now this is the way the members works is, there is no reserved seats down here on level M. So it’s basically a free for all. But people generally have ‘their’ seas that they like to sit in every week when they are here. The lads and I like to sit over here in M40 about halfway down the stands.’ John followed and was in awe when he came to be standing at the top of one of the staircases leading down to the rest of the seating. The stands were 4 tiers and filling up fast.

 _Sherlock would probably know some amazing facts about this place_ John thought as he followed Sean down to row H and took the seat that had been left for him on the end of the row. Another round of back slapping and hand shaking with his fellow colleagues proceeded before Sean took orders for beer and chips and even a couple of meat pies.

‘C’mon John, you’ve gotta have a meat pie at the footy!’

‘Yeah C’mon John’

‘Its tradition mate’ John merely continue to shake his head. It was way too hot to be eating a meat pie; the forecast from the news this morning had said it was going to be ‘a beautiful winter’s day, sunny with a little cloud and a top of 19 degrees.’

 

After Sean had left to pick up the order, John half-heartedly listened as one of his colleagues, Brad his name was, tried to explain the rule of the game to him, and why on earth there was a need for 4 poles at either end, and the difference between goals and points and what happens if it’s touched and then goes over the line into the goal or point area, and if it hits the post on the full and if the ball were to just go out over the boundary line what happens next, was it deliberate or not. John felt he would understand the rules a little better once the game actually began. People began appearing on the ground, carrying large poles between them.

‘They are generally members of the cheer squad of each team that is playing and they make a banner every week for the players to run through.’ Brad explained to him. John nodded, fascinated by the whole endeavour. The Collingwood supporters got their banner up, and then a song began to play through the speakers as the Collingwood players ran out onto the ground. The roar was slightly deafening and John was glad he had been to a couple of soccer games back in England so he wasn’t totally surprised by the wall of noise around him.

 

_Good old Collingwood forever, they know how to play the game_

_Side by side they stick together for the Magpies name_

_See the barrackers a shouting, as all barrackers should_

_Oh the premierships a cakewalk for the good old Collingwood._

 

When the team song finished there was some more, even louder, cheering and clapping. Then the Melbourne banner was lifted and the players began to run onto the ground as the song began to play.

 

_It’s a grand old flag, it’s a high flying flag_

_It’s the emblem for me and for you_

_It’s the emblem of the team we love_

_The team of the red and the blue_

_Every heart beats true for the red and the blue_

_And we sing this song to you_

_(what is it?)_

_Should old acquaintance be forgot_

_Keep your eye on the red and the blue_

 

John’s next words were almost drowned out by the song and the cheers from the crowd.

‘Oh my goodness’ John couldn’t believe his eyes. Running out onto the ground, with a number of team mates around him was a mop of dark curly hair he would recognise from a mile away.

‘What is it John?’ Sean asked as he returned to their seats with the requested beers, meat pies and chips. Muttered ‘cheers mate’ was heard along the line of doctors before John grabbed his own beer and chips from Sean. He took a huge gulp of beer and sighed heavily.

‘Geez John, slow down mate! The footy is supposed to be enjoyed with a beer, not the other way around.’ John chuckled slightly and took another sip. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, so loud he wasn’t sure how Sean and the others couldn’t hear it. John took a deep breath.

‘Do you know that guy, with the black curly hair?’ Sean nodded, a grin spreading across his face.

‘That’s Sherlock Holmes mate. He is fair dinkum the best forward we’ve got in our team. He’s been on our team now for… oh gosh, hang on let me ask Matty – Oi Matty, how long has Holmes been on our team?’ John heard a muffled cry come back from down the row of seats.

‘Oh yeah, this will be his 7th year with the club this year. He came out here from England actually as a young gun, got drafted on his first go at it. Stuck up smarmy little punk when he first got here though, thought he knew everything there was to know about AFL – well that’s what the papers said anyway.’ Sean took a swig of his beer, and a breath too. John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sherlock Holmes a famous AFL player! That was ridiculous; he would have said something wouldn’t he? How the hell can he have gone on a date with a footy player and not known.

‘He’s currently rated as the best full forward in the competition, won the Coleman medal last year. That’s the prize you get for kicking the most goals out of everyone else in a season. They reckon this year he is on track to win the Brownlow medal – that’s the one for the best player as voted by the umpires throughout the whole season’ John groaned softly, as he realised how stupid he must have sounded to Sherlock when he was talking about the footy. The Melbourne players were running back down the ground toward the goals near the members end, and John’s eyes sought out Sherlock. He looked like perfection, standing just above the 50m curved line, football in hand, poised to kick the ball. God the way the shorts hugged his arse and legs and the way his jersey framed his athletic body, John knew he had a good body but this was next level perve opportunity. He even had his socks pulled up to exactly the same height and his boots were a shiny navy blue.

 

John felt a nudge on his side, and rose to let another doctor into their row of seats. He was still looking at Sherlock, who was about to kick for goal, when in that moment he looked John’s way. Sherlock have spotted him because John saw his eyebrows rise, a small ‘O’ forming on his face. John felt himself flush and quickly handed his beer and chips off to Sean.

‘Sean I’ve… I’ve got to go.. I’ll see you at work…’ John stuttered before picking up his bag and heading back up the stairs. He could hear faint called of ‘John!’ ‘Hey John, come back’ ‘Where you goin mate? It hasn’t even started’. But more importantly he could feel the eyes of Sherlock Holmes boring into his back, and he wished the ground would swallow him whole. In that moment he felt utter and complete humiliation like never before in his life, and it was all thanks to Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
